


Timing

by hakuzo_k



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:25:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 10,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3417524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hakuzo_k/pseuds/hakuzo_k
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of instances that draw them together, differences that keep them apart, and the gradual understanding through reconnection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's No Big Deal

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dialogue Prompts](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/99896) by myquantumtheory. 



> I’ve wanted to write about these two for such a long time. They certainly give me a breath of fresh air. I wish to see them interact more. Their dynamic is so much fun to think about.
> 
> Companion playlist: https://8tracks.com/hakuzo/timing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Can I kiss you?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Shuuichi sputters and rolls away from the softly whispered request. He swears there was also a puff of air against his ear, but there has been gentle winds this afternoon. Pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes, Shuuichi watches the small grin on Seiji’s face.

“You were dozing off,” is the offered explanation. Surprised that he hasn’t received a response, Seiji drops to his stomach and reaches into Shuuichi’s school bag. “As punishment, I’m going to read aloud those love letters and eat those sweets your received.”

In panic, Shuuichi bats Seiji’s arm and attempts to pull the bag away. He isn’t sure if he should be more concerned about the embarrassing confessions or Seiji’s abrupt request.

They both decide to dismiss the unexpected question in favor of the few fleeting letters.


	2. Things That Are Easy to Confuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

Some days they fall into stride to and from their schools. Shuuichi knows not to play it off as simple coincidence. Seiji made sure that his existence wasn't as superficial as that. Often the older wouldn't start or even entertain Seiji with a conversation. Most times it fires up a dispute (fun to Seiji, aggravating to Shuuichi) between them. That's why it is easier to remain quiet. But it's hard to ignore Seiji's gradual change in appearance with each passing week.

The black hair is longer than when they first met. The length is now tied back, trailing two inches down his back. The once symmetrical fringe is now more so angled along the right side of his face, at times completely covering the right eye.

"Your hair is getting longer." No morning greetings or well-being inquiries, just an abrupt statement.

"It is," the black-haired teen brushes off, resisting the urge to tug at the ends of the small ponytail.

"It's kind of girly. Are you into that sort of thing?" Shuuichi laughs.

Seiji turns to face the older teen, expression seemingly neutral but voice laced with cautious hostility. "It's easier to blend in with ayakashi. I can even use it in a trade with one."

There are rare times when Shuuichi is able to see this no-nonsense side of Seiji. Unfortunately he is on the receiving end of it this time. The older teen looks off, unsure if he should feel bothered from the cold hazard or remorseful for the impulsive comment. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't," Seiji responds snidely, not caring to mask the mixture of anger and offense. He doesn't wait long to flicker his red eyes back to the young Natori heir. He has stepped back after his comment, frame a little withdrawn and supposedly apologetic, eyes angled away. It doesn't deter his return.

"Your family is a bunch of cowards, right?" Seiji catches a quick twist of features (anger, shame, defense) before it's coated in practiced (but imperfect) indifference. "They haven't been keeping up with the times. Of course you wouldn't know."

Shuuichi finds it a little unfair that he isn't able to mock but this future clan head could. And so he openly glares at Seiji, letting his disapproval be known.

"I shouldn't have assumed that you knew better."

The younger teen carries himself onward, leaving Shuuichi to clench his fists and internally debate the satisfaction and repercussions of hitting him. Seiji should know better than pressing so much, but that's probably why he didn't say anything further.

They resume their walking, in understandable silence, until they have to part their ways to separate institutions.

Seiji presses closer, disrupting their mutual distance to unnerve his senior  _just a bit_. "I'll see you later?" It's inclined as a question, motives ever hidden and playful.

There's a fleeting brush against his hand, sending an excited thump in Shuuichi's chest. Seiji always has that knowing smirk, but it's more subdued than usual. Perhaps an apology.

He tries to sound dismissive and short due to their earlier argument, "...Yeah," but they both know it still comes out as wanting.

Shuuichi flees to the direction of his school, clenched hands carefully hidden from the younger's view, struggling between wanting to smack him and closing their proximity in another way.


	3. Thief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It wasn't supposed to happen like that."

He may have been thinking about this a lot. But since he is the one considering it, it is up to him to initiate or not.

He means to (meant to). Right now he isn't prepared for it. Maybe that's why Seiji decides to steal this aggravatingly curious idea from him. It must have been easy for him to discern. All that was left was to tilt a shy cheek, and press lips onto the other's.

Shuuichi couldn't even imagine what would happen afterward. But he is able to breathe fully, freshly, and try for himself.

From that reciprocation, something stirs inside Seiji to press more tenderly. Pressed back, they both delight in the other's labored breathing and curious lips. It would be easier at his home, Shuuichi thinks when his head bangs against the wooden pillar. He at least has a sofa.

Although he considers himself paced, Shuuichi finds himself breathless, unable to catch up to Seiji's passion (but this time he doesn't mind). It ends too quickly. (Still shy on both ends to push, to try further.) The older wonders if he would have continued, but with Seiji's withdrawal, he knows not to press. He feels a puff against his face. Upon opening his eyes, Shuuichi sees Seiji's bright satisfaction etched into his grin – no doubt because of the senior's dishevelment.

Nipping under the sandy-blond's jaw, the young exorcist grasps his attention once more. "I liked that," he purrs, waiting on Shuuichi's reaction–

–or what he could have seen of it before said teen tilts his head away, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. From the glimpse he is able to get, it's nice to see the flush still on him. Seiji settles himself against Shuuichi's chest, head nestled and black hair tickling the other's neck, smile both smug and content.

"It wasn't supposed to happen like that," Shuuichi quickly blurts out. (It was his idea, he repeats to himself. Then again, admitting something like that is extremely embarrassing. Why would he want to take the credit?)

Seiji blinks widely and tilts his head up, unsure of what he heard. "What?"

Shuuichi frowns to himself despite his lips wanting to quirk up. The wetness of the kiss gradually leaves him and he's too embarrassed to ask for another.

Seiji also notices (of course he does) and presses their lips once more. (The right amount of exciting pressure. One shaky breath and the other relieved.) "Just ask if you want another." There's a laugh so quiet that it would have gone unnoticed if it wasn't for Shuuichi's intuition with the younger teen.

The sandy-blond half-heartedly shoves Seiji, resulting in an actual laugh this time. He pointedly ignores both the teen and the pout pulling on his lips, looking to the forest bordering the Matoba estate.

He keeps stealing from him.


	4. Dilemmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Please don't argue."

It's hard what to call their relationship. They often fight, but there is still a mutual comfort neither address. (Maybe it's because they're similar, both with sight and temperaments.)

As with most of the conversations turned arguments, it doesn't take long for them to escalate. There is always a clip at the Natori family, how its only heir tries and tries but cannot catch up to one that is similar in age with him. Then again, it may be because the other's family's concrete connections both with exorcists and youkai. They never abandoned their post, always remained rigorous and detailed in their training and life.

Having such a low-classed exorcist arguing his own points and views doesn't settle well with Seiji. Why would he listen to someone so inexperienced and out of touch? What can he gain from this amateur besides him being a dubious tool? He is self-righteous for a reason – he has gained that privilege and influence.

Seiji doesn't think about his movements – just that he really is angered and feels justified enough. He can use this – all the more techniques he can employ to further his ideas and goals.

Even Shuuichi doesn't expect to be on the ground by this point. (Maybe he should have been more observant of Seiji's attack than worrying about their proximity.)

"Please don't argue," Seiji seethes with an uncharacteristic waver.

Shuuichi is shocked into silence by Seiji's tone, not so much the command itself.

"I want to," Shuuichi is somehow able to breathe out despite the pressure on top of him. He feels his chest cave in, the younger teen unwilling to pity with restraint. "It seems like not many people argue with you, and if they do, it's something you can easily dismiss. But when it's with me, it really sets you off." Shuuichi expels a weary laugh, getting tired from the weight on top of him. How long was Seiji going to remain there?

"You think you know what you're talking about," the younger has shut his eyes and chuckles, "but you're an amateur."

"There are things I know more than you."

The young Matoba looks to Shuuichi, a challenge in both of their eyes. "Do you?" As usual, mocking. When it comes to this unseen world, Seiji knows substantially more.

The body pinning him still doesn't give way. Shuuichi releases a mixture of a heavy sigh and a groan before passing an annoyed look to Seiji. "Not in the way you are thinking." Hopefully not this time. Just once may he surprise Seiji.

"..." The younger's mouth opens just a fraction before shutting, settling to lock an intense gaze instead. "...what don't I know about?" Fine, he'll take the invitation. Maybe it will give him another reason to shove Shuuichi into the dirt.

Seiji seems doubtful, which is all the initiative Shuuichi needs. With a burst of strength, he frees a hand, unsettling the body on top of his. It shoots to the back of Seiji's head, lets the fingers tangle deeply into the black hair, before gripping him forward.

Of course Seiji is startled at first. He feels something quickly grip the back of his head. The unknown danger stuns him, causing his heart to race and all he can think of in that moment is an ayakashi attack. Instinctually, he pulls back, but the strength overpowers him (when did his own give out?) and meets Shuuichi's face.

Shuuichi doesn't consider the force of impact when pulling the younger forward. Their lips smash together and he feels heat of a rising bruise on his bottom lip. But right now, in this moment that Seiji is temporarily deterred, he is in control, he has the authority, and wastes no time. His lips press strongly until he feels the other's move. When Seiji only breathes through his nose, Shuuichi feels a little rueful at the abrupt tug from earlier. He tries to encourage, the other hand (now free) cupping Seiji's jaw.

The warm touch (a human touch) snaps the younger out of alarm. He tilts his head, letting Shuuichi press and taste the skin of his lips, trying to sneak inside. But Seiji holds his teeth, smiles and elates at the other's growing desperateness.

There is a mix of a sigh and angry growl from the older teen. A breathy laugh is its only response.

(No. It is  _his_  turn for control.)

Shuuichi's heart skips at the thought that passes through his head, and right now, Seiji isn't letting anything happen. He remains stoic, but Shuuichi can feel his frame bracing against the need to just collapse and give  _in_. So, he twists his hand, and the reaction and view he is garnered with is more than he anticipated. Eyes shut tightly, and releasing a heavy breath, Seiji finally loosens his mouth with a small noise. From there, Shuuichi is able to deepen his kisses and taste, holding the back of the younger's head and taking all his breath with unrestrained exploration.

It's scary, Seiji thinks to himself as he is filled with confliction of contradicting wants. He wants to tease, to remain on top, to forever keep Shuuichi reaching. He wants to permit, to indulge, to submit to the emotions and reactions rising and waving and stirring.

He can compromise, he thinks.

Feeling Shuuichi's tongue, Seiji presses his own with more force. The other tries to remain inside, swiping and pushing and Seiji has half a mind to send him a warning by biting down.

But then something brushes against his groin and all thoughts of warnings and teasing flee his mind. Seiji chokes, taken back, and Shuuichi drags him chest to chest.

( _He won't surrender. Won't surrender._ )

Hands dig and fist into Shuuichi's chest and Seiji tries to match the intensity of the kisses. (But right now he really is no match to this crazed fool.)

Maybe he should give up, give in to the pressure building in his chest and groin. The hand still holds the back of his head, smooth strands carefully being twisted between fingers. It feels nice, Seiji admits. A genuine and attentive interest. Tenseness giving way, Seiji breathes out through his mouth, moves to Shuuichi's in offering.

A brief indulgence.

Shuuichi has a desperateness about him, but Seiji is sure he must too. No longer does he hold restraint on his body or mind. He lets Shuuichi delve deeper with his mouth, snagging his hair, and brushing his hand down his neck. When Shuuichi holds down Seiji's back to move his hips up, it causes the younger a choked gasp. His head is spinning, Seiji notes, when he lets his eyes briefly open. The face that meets him is flushed, but determined.

Offering a hand to one on his hips, Seiji helps press down, sinking more snugly into the other. A gasp, and a small whine. Lips and breath brush over Seiji's ear and he shivers, head shying away. It's grabbed back, heavy kisses leading from ear to mouth.

Seiji can feel his nervous smile and hopes that the other won't notice such a slip. When the passion continues, there is a small ripple of relief. The younger teen reciprocates, hand grazing above Shuuichi's ear to tangle his hand there.

It's when they roll over that Seiji regains his sobriety. The figure over him shadows his face. As much as he wants to comment on Shuuichi's bright red face (his dishevelment always looks good on him), he is too unsettled to. A hand slips under his uniform shirt and Seiji's breath stops. Nothing is warm anymore. The touch is like burning ice, stabbing like needles. He watches Shuuichi with wide eyes, and once the older tilts his eyes to peer at him, Seiji feels a strong impulse to flee.

Which he does right after using his knees to heave the larger teen off of him. It's rushed but careful, not painful. Shuuichi is confused at the thought put into it, expecting a more violent repercussion with the way Seiji stared at him.

Seiji doesn't say a word nor passes a departing glance to Shuuichi. He simply gathers his schoolbag and continues home, his mind racing too much to bother fixing his clothes or appearance.

The dismissive demeanor is all Shuuichi needs to decide not to pursue him. The older teen takes a moment to collect himself, adequately brushes the dirt off his uniform and returns home. As much as he wants to replay the look of Seiji's face and voice and touches, he feels wrong to. No doubt he has crossed a boundary with him that neither expected.

Seiji doesn't bend to others. When the young heir realized the situation, with urgent denial following, both should expect that that fleeting moment they just shared may never surface again.

He doesn't know if this information should be filed under offensive or sympathetic use for a later date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly this was just meant to be them bickering, but I guess making out aggressively is just another way for them, too.


	5. Selfish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You can't protect me."

It is one of the rare times that the two young exorcists collaborated. They each have their reputations and status in mind when accepting the bounty. Whereas Shuuichi also doesn't mind the pay with it, Seiji enjoys implementing his skills.

Of course, both of their preoccupations would encroach on the other's in some way despite them being similar. In this occupation, there needs to be the right amount of selfless and selfish behavior. Neither could build a satisfactory balance.

Facing the bounty they had tracked, vigilant on the tricks it uses, Shuuichi decides to be selfless. (He thinks so, anyway.) Shoving Seiji out of the way just further endangers them. The ayakashi turns its savage attack then onto Shuuichi – an inexperienced exorcist with paper weapons. Instead of wasting his time and breath to curse at Shuuichi, Seiji scrabbles for his bow.

Although it takes a few enchanted arrows, the younger exorcist is able to destroy the ayakashi. Shuuichi is lucky to have made it out with his limbs intact. He makes his way over to the sandy-blond nursing shallow cuts on his arms and face. Seiji fists the bow tightly, glaring down at him.

Shuuichi swallows his small painful sounds and looks to the exorcist above him. When noticing the disdainful look, Shuuichi returns it, hissing out a rushed, "What?"

"You  _can't_  protect me."

Seiji leaves before Shuuichi can think of what to say in return. How ignorant! he first thinks, clutching his wounds as he returns to his residence.

But the more he lingers on Seiji's words and actions, maybe what was said is true when coming from the young prodigy. His own skills are amateur and unrefined. What Shuuichi thought was selfless really was thoughtless. He didn't consider or trust the capabilities of his partner,

Shuuichi hisses when swiping disinfectant on his forearm.

How arrogant.

The both of them.


	6. Just

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I can't let you do that."

The only exorcist bulletin within reasonable distance is the Matoba clan's. Shuuichi surveys the bulletin for new bounties and the like. It is a two week old posting, passed off by other exorcists for being too much work for little bounty, but he takes it anyway and reads the contents.

If he knew that Seiji would be returning earlier than normal, Shuuichi would have taken the flyer and left.

The paper is plucked from his hands and instead he reads the interested expression in front of him. The black-haired teen flips over the flyer and purses his lips, wrinkling the gauze's tape on his cheek.

"Oh, I can't let you do that." Seiji neatly folds the flyer and tucks it into a jacket pocket.

Shuuichi bristles and hardens his shoulders. "I'm not part of your clan – I can take this task if I want."

Seiji raises his brows. "You're right. You can." When the older teen reaches forward, Seiji side steps. "But I think I want to take this job."

That flyer has been there for two weeks. Seiji would have plenty of time to claim it. It doesn't seem to fit his interest either.

"Why do you want it now? Is it because I'm taking it?"

"Hmm…" Seiji passes fake interest over to the window to avoid Shuuichi's glare. "Yeah, I guess." When turning his gaze back, Shuuichi catches a subdued playfulness (not as strong as it's usually portrayed). "But I know I can do the task better than you."

"What makes you say that?" Shuuichi tries lowly.

Seiji is quiet for a moment, watching (and thus unnerving Shuuichi). "You still haven't recovered from your last mission." Like the younger, Shuuichi also bears a smaller bandage on his cheek. His claim no doubt includes other hidden wounds.

"What about yours?" Shuuichi can't help but retort when the other also bears something similar.

Frowning, Seiji presses the gauze against his cheek. "This is because of you. How often do you need a reminder of your failures?" he cuts in sharply before the false bravado returns, a painful smile is donned. "You're not good at the jobs you take. Even when partnered with someone, you're still useless."

Making his hands into fists, Shuuichi has half a mind to add a bruise to the other side of Seiji's injured face. But he must have thought of this too late – or Seiji sees his hesitance – because the young heir sweeps by him, carrying a familiar scent of sealing dust.

"Don't come here again until you can perform an exorcist task by yourself."

Shuuichi does leave, but not without the well thought-out punch to the bastard's face.

It is for his own benefit that he strengthens himself. It isn't per Seiji's words Shuuichi listens.

Once separated, Shuuichi keeps the distance far and communication null between them.

(If only thoughts and memories could also be rid of.)


	7. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You came back."

When hearing of the news, Shuuichi leaves work immediately to visit the main Matoba manor. The reason isn't that the current head had passed away, but what will become of the next one.

Their eye will always be a target. Their life will then always be in danger.

Many make way for the young Natori heir, curious and already gossiping about his arrival and involvement.

When Shuuichi finds him, his back is to him. His longer hair now falls upon his back, tied into a low ponytail. After easing his heavy breathing, Shuuichi braces himself.

"Matoba."

Shuuichi never became used to addressing the other by his given name, no matter how much Seiji urged him. Using the clan name is now supposed to be fitting, yet Shuuichi feels like he lost a piece of his younger days and memories – things that will never be recreated in the same kind of way again.

(Both of their faults in the end. Both bitter and stubborn and self-righteous.)

Seiji turns around when addressed, surprised when hearing Shuuichi's voice. The emotion quickly fades with a biting comment. "Oh. Hello, Natori. You came back."

The older exorcist visibly flinches at the clan head's appearance, dressed in bandages and weariness. His hands, his neck, his cheek (and no doubt under his robes from the protrusions) – all wrapped clean with gauze and tape. But the right eye remains the main concern: a bandage peeks from beneath, covered by a heavy paper and enchanted with a protection seal. Shuuichi wants to inquire, but doesn't want to seem rude after such a long parting.

Thankfully (or maybe not), Seiji picks up on his silence and dismisses his attendants. "I can entertain your questions for a small time. All exorcists seem to be thirsting about the Matoba clan's status." The clan head nods over to a vacant room for them to leave space in the hallways.

Shuuichi gives no time for Seiji to adjust to his presence in case he is cut short by routine antagonizing. "How badly?"

Seiji shuts his eyes and shrugs, "It's really not that bad," but the gesture sends a small twinge of pain down his shoulder and back. It really isn't anything serious. That was just a pulled muscle. He doesn't check to see if Shuuichi noticed. "The house's servants worry too much because of my promise. I am more than capable."

"I want to know."

Seiji lifts his eye to Shuuichi (something that each will have to get used to). Even the iris is a darker shade of red.

Stubborn and persistent, Seiji scorns internally. But this will at least pass time until his next duty. With bandaged hands, Seiji pulls at the collar of his kimono, further exposing the extent of his neck's damage. He hears a small intake of breath, but keeps his eyes elsewhere.

"Strangled, bruising and cuts," Seiji explains, leaving the robe open to display bandaged hands. "Dragged."

The clan head returns to pulling open his kimono, stopping above the maroon obi that holds it together. There is a wide bandage that wraps around his waist a few times.

It's because he was dragged across the forest floor. Some scrapes and harsh bruising. Shuuichi remains quiet, noticing how new and nicely wrapped the bandages are. There are things definitely left unsaid about the extent of the attack, but he is the one intruding.

The main concern however hasn't been addressed. Shuuichi straightens himself, preparing for a counter from the new clan head for not making his inquiries brief. "How's your eye?" There is no doubt that Seiji is capable of handling youkai himself, but it is apparent that he was off-guard during this encounter.

Seiji is reminded of the obstruction over his eye. He brushes his fingers against the eye-patch, mindful of the damage also done there. It's not like he could avoid this topic – it was the one everyone was gossiping about. It'd be nice not to talk about it so often.

"It was really close." Seiji adjusts his clothing and reflects back on the fated attack. There was a hot tinge in his right eye which must have been the transfer of the contract. Rarely had he ever felt dread, but the intense drop of temperature was a warning. The youkai must have been on watch during the former clan head's last moments and promptly made its way to the proclaimed heir. It's a stupid youkai, easily confused by motifs that looks like eyes. But Seiji only had one umbrella – one that was easily torn apart.

"I have a nasty mark here, now." A bitter and short laugh. Shuuichi adjusts his standing, unsettled by Seiji's somber nature. It doesn't last for long. Seiji swoops closer, hand poised to lift the seal over his eye.

"Do you want to see?" Seiji's lips are stretched into an anxious smile.

"N-No."

Seiji laughs a bit more heartedly, more like himself. Shuuichi tries to crack a smile, but feels it twitch. "I have difficulty with depth perception and blind spots. But this is only just a small price to pay for what the clan reaps from the contract."

With a sardonic smile, the clan head dismisses himself as new duties await him. He allows himself a brief pat on Shuuichi's arm, expecting the long awaited nostalgia to spill over. It rises, but is crushed before they lead to trembling hands and regrettable words.

Shuuichi leaves both relieved and anxious. He only came for information (something he is long used to by now. His motives are objective and manners practiced to impress.)

Seiji played the whole thing off with disciplined grace. Maybe that's what years of isolation and rigorous lessons can result in.

Admirable, but lonely.


	8. Canary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I didn't know you could sing."

It's not that he has a particularly good voice. It's just nice to sing, sometimes. The vibrations in your own throat or a pleasing melody is all the reason he needs.

Alone, of course.

Sometimes he'll just hum, enjoying the vibrations. Before he can recite the next verse, a voice interrupts.

"I didn't know you could sing."

Seiji's shoulders flinch. He catches himself from turning around and snapping at the known intruder. There are no insults on hand. Instead he pulls his lips together and breathes through his nose, minding the setting sun through the thick trees.

Although unable to see the young clan head's face, Shuuichi smiles. It's rare to sneak up on Seiji. He always seems to have an intuition of spying eyes.

This is the first time Shuuichi has ever come across the other's rhythmic voice. He didn't listen to it long, though – he dismissed appreciating that secret moment in favor of teasing Seiji. It would have been embarrassing otherwise if Shuuichi accepted that chance softness.

"I can. If it's likeable to someone is another thing."

No one else has heard his voice.

Shuuichi sits beside Seiji on the porch (still gazing forward). He can spare a few minutes before his errand.

"I like it."

The young exorcist fidgets, straightens the wrinkles on his lap. "That must mean something if it's coming from Natori Shuuichi the actor."

Shuuichi laughs and Seiji smiles to himself as they both feel a large weight lift from their chests.


	9. I Want To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Have you ever wanted to hate someone?"

Shuuichi doesn't spark much conversation in Seiji's company. When he speaks, it certainly tells what is on his mind. Seiji can make an informed guess about who it is about, but the subject of it warns him to tread lightly. There's no need to irritate the situation and prove the hunch correct.

"Have you ever wanted to hate someone?"

(He belongs to a family that respects him, protects him, and understands his powers. They don't run away; they're a strong and respected family. He's encouraged to learn more, strengthen both his mind and body, never to fear the spiritual beings they dealt with. People weren't scared of his ability, but admired it. He doesn't need to struggle like he does, forever seeking approval and guidance as he bears an uncertain youkai upon his body.)

"I have," the younger discloses.

(He has the freedom to choose his path and fate. There aren't obligations to family or traditions. His ancestors shamed their name generations ago, and now there is only one heir who bears an uncertain curse in their wake. Whereas he has the freedom to venture, he is bound to select locations due to duties. In his freedom, he can experience new things and people. He is able to express, make friends, learn and make mistakes without scrutiny.)

Seiji looks to Shuuichi's unoccupied hand, wondering if he should brush or hold it. Being to do so is still uncertain. "But it's pointless when the variables are unchangeable."


	10. Good Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are you drunk?"

He's never seen his face so flushed. (More so than the times he has teased him.)

He's louder than usual. Good-natured, too. There's no need to be expelling charm among exorcists.

It's when Shuuichi sits down at a table that Seiji confronts him. A new set of sake is placed down by an attendant. Shuuichi reaches for the cup and vase. It's unclear to Seiji if the other knew he was there, so he makes himself known.

"I would have appreciated a greeting upon your arrival." He watches Shuuichi drink, dismissing Seiji's words. The young clan head purses his lips in annoyance about to add a negative clip to Shuuichi's character, but the sandy-blond finally speaks.

"I don't come to these meetings to accommodate you," Shuuichi responds, eyes forward before taking another sip.

"I need to know who's on my roster when hosting these. If there's any trouble, I'll know who to expel," Seiji clips, eye darting away from Shuuichi's hand when said man looks to him.

"Are you saying I'm trouble, Matoba?" Shuuichi smiles bitterly.

"You can be," is quickly retorted back with a half-hearted chuckle. A hand moves across the table to pour more liquor into a cup, then a second one. It's left in front of Seiji as Shuuichi minds another mouthful. The clan head raises a questioning brow at him, fingers tentatively touching the hot cup.

"Are you drunk?" Seiji muses aloud, voice tinged amused. (He has told him that his face does look good flushed. Although he isn't sure if he should remind Shuuichi in this condition.)

Shuuichi lets out a single chuckle before gracing Seiji with a dazzling grin. Seiji feels a small heat dust across his cheeks, but if prompted, he'll blame the sake (although he has not taken a sip). "And you're not?"

Only a few times he has been inebriated, but only in small to no company. He couldn't risk embarrassment or defamation due to his inexperienced drinking. Although, Shuuichi has a point. These meetings can be bland, repetitive,  _boring_. It's all about reputations and pretending to care so your own business flourishes.

After the cup cools considerably, Seiji partakes in a drink. "I suppose you're right." His eye drags back to Shuuichi (who remains flustered and loose and openly bold) and settles himself closer to him. His heart rate picks up when brushing Shuuichi's arm with his. "These meetings can be so dull."


	11. A Fractured Pedestal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know, it's okay to cry."

"You know, it's okay to cry."

"...Shut up," is the man's defeated reply, just barely biting back a sob.

He knows Shuuichi isn't being condescending, despite a rare opportunity for him to be so. Maybe it is triumph enough that he has seen him in tears.

The clan's exorcists have already taken the injured back to the manor. And although visibly shaken to his subordinates, Seiji seeks to finish the hostile youkai. It is only when it is finally deemed safe does he release his weaponry and fall upon a boulder to rest.

His hands burn, red and flaking from the repeated ( _hurried_ ) pulls on his bow. He picks at the top layer of his palms and digits, removing patches to reveal even redder skin beneath.

"I can't cry." The clan head can feel himself slowly stabilize his breathing and mind. The breeze that rolls over the two exorcists prickle their skin. From the coolness, the shadow lizard retreats beneath Shuuichi's sleeve. Another careful breath to expel another careless thought. "I shouldn't."

Seiji rubs his raw hands together to wear off the remaining peels. "It isn't becoming for a leader." He collects his bow and quiver before rising. Dry leaves, so brittle they nearly turn to dust, crunch beneath the man's feet as he approaches the slowly dying beast.

Shuuichi sighs begrudgingly, but follows the Matoba clan head. Seiji stays a reasonable distance away. Shuuichi, even farther from both the youkai and exorcist. "If you don't allow yourself human emotions, you may as well be the youkai you claim to despise."

"My blood is human. That is all I need."

They don't say anything more as the beast-youkai releases its final breath. An arrow decorated with vicious talismans is thrusted through the top of its mouth, causing the being to expel a dangerous cloud of miasma. Seiji watches with a hardened expression.

When returning to the manor, the older exorcist notes the change in the clan head's demeanor, but doesn't bother bringing it up. He'd only be met with the same indifference as that youkai.


	12. Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I will be right over."

Shuuichi has night terrors. Their intensity and frequency have never lessened over the years, even with the knowledge and experience he has gained. He thinks he can convince himself not to worry, but the impact of youkai haunts and criticizing family and society have long since left its mark.

Sometimes it's a simple nightmare that leaves him with a bad mood for the day. Other times he'd be jolted awake in a panicked sweat and doze the rest of the night.

The worst ones are the surreal. Something bothers him in a dream and he'll turn to constructing new seals and talismans. These panicked constructions are never completed, left in a paranoid hurry. It's not like it mattered – the formulas and words never made sense and couldn't be used.

The shiki he employed are concerned at first, keeping an eye on his madness until he passes out. Now they know to pass it off as another human absurdity. There was nothing they could do but make sure their master didn't injure himself.

One night terror causes Shuuichi such delusion that he picks up his phone and calls someone. To him, it's part of the dream. He needs advice on the failed seals he was working on. He doesn't have many colleagues' numbers, and he has sworn to use this person for emergencies.

The shiki watch their master from a distance, his arms trembling and head bowed to the stand. He's extremely fatigued, his head snapping back to stay awake (in this faux dream). They remain nearby and unobtrusive.

"Hello?" comes a drowsy voice from the receiving end of the call.

Shuuichi tries to find his voice – what reason to give, words to say – for this impromptu call. Fatigued, eyes lazily tracing the wall before him, Shuuichi tries, "Seals." A pause, to gather words again, for an explanation. The person waits patiently. "I need help."

"How about at a more convenient time?" suggests the deep-voiced man, releasing a heavy sigh.

"It's not complete. I have to complete it," Shuuichi desperately rushes.

Shuuichi rests his head against the wall as he waits for his colleague's answer.

"Does it need to be completed tonight?" the voice huffs exasperated.

"Yes," the exorcist groans, fingering a pen on the stand before it flings onto the floor and exciting the two shiki. "I have to go  _now_. I can't keep her waiting."

"...Who?" the other man softly questions.

Shuuichi rubs his head into the wall, sighing exasperated. It's not uncommon that Shuuichi did such things during these terrors, but he has never spoken to another human during it. He progressively gets more upset.

"It's not my fault," the sandy-blond man hisses, letting his hips dig into the stand.

"I never said anything of the sort," comes the cool, collected voice. "What happened, Shuuichi?"

Being addressed by his given name brings a small bit of clarity to the situation – more so who he is speaking with. "Nothing," Shuuichi abruptly answers.

The silence that follows is different than before. It's patient, but no longer holds irritation and faux interest.

"...do you still need help?"

Shuuichi sighs, feeling himself wake a bit more from the manifested delusion. He heeds the other's words, tired eyes dragging back to the living room a mess with paper, books, and sharpened wooden sticks. "...yeah," is his defeated reply.

There's no hint of amusement or annoyance from Seiji–

"I will be right over."

–just relief.


	13. Bitter, Thriving Mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You don’t need to protect me.”

Autumn has crept in. A little chill and crisp – sometimes crude enough that one would have to retrieve their scarf or mittens much too early for the season.

"Here."

Looking over the bridges of his glasses, Shuuichi sees that Seiji is handing over a cup of hot barley tea to him. Not wanting to spark a fight so early in the morning, he takes the cup, appreciating the warmth bleeding into his chilly fingers.

"... Thanks."

Seiji sits beside Shuuichi on the bench and regards him before facing forward and sipping from his own cup. They both watch a dozen other people set up the tents and stage for tonight's shrine celebration. A few passersby give an offering to the small, local shrine.

"It would be easier if you had some support."

It was only a matter of time before Seiji brought it up.

Shuuichi clenches his teeth and fists the cup, indenting the plastic at the sides. "You don't need to protect me."

Seiji waits and collects on Shuuichi's anger and vulnerability before persisting with a smirk. "It sounded like it. You definitely craved a human presence." He has to keep it a little teasing, otherwise their conversation would be off-balance. It would incite the same seriousness of the other night. A hand presses closer to the other resting on the bench.

He really doesn't anticipate Shuuichi's explosiveness. Slapping the hand away, the sandy-blond man bolts straight up to scold Seiji, the tea splashing out of the cup he held.

"Why am I now relevant to you?!"

He has been by himself his whole life. Why now would he accept support? Where was it when they first met? When Shuuichi was still learning and growing?

Shuuichi buries his face into his scarf and considers covering his ears with his hat as well, worried that Seiji will point out the redness on his face. The black-haired man only stares back with wide eyes, a face often given to Shuuichi in their younger days.

Neither of them knew how difficult it was going to be reconnecting with each other.


	14. Finally (finally, finally)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm flirting with you."

Seiji is certainly a mystery. Shuuichi is sure that being raised in an exorcist community contributed to his eccentricities, but there are some things that must be controlled solely by him.

He is smart, there's no denying that. He is graced with many intelligences, but there's one that certainly confuses Shuuichi.

Or maybe Seiji wants it that way.

It's not hard to guess who sends him cryptic letters with sealing formulas or surprise attacks from bounty ayakashi. Shuuichi assumes it's another way Seiji can antagonize him.

And like all other scenarios, Shuuichi doesn't expect this explanation to Seiji's behavior.

"I'm flirting with you," he says bluntly as if it was obvious, looking the older exorcist straight in the eye.

Shuuichi falters for a moment. Of course he doesn't expect something like this. All of Seiji's behaviors are difficult to place unless you were Seiji himself. Twisting his lips and furrowing his brows, the sandy-blond asks, "Do you even know what you're saying?"

"I do," Seiji replies without missing a beat.

A corner of Shuuichi's lips pulls up – again, unsure of the younger's intentions. Maybe he hasn't seen common methods of courting. Quickly, he waves it off as that – he can't be smart in everything, can he? "That's not a normal way of doing it." He sounds a little smug (as he himself has dealt with confessions and being pursued).

It's Seiji's turn to be amused. His typical menacing smirk returns and he gazes through his fallen fringe. "We're not normal to begin with."

Then again, maybe it's because those were done by normal girls – those who couldn't see and didn't collide with the hidden world.

Shuuichi looks away, red tinged across his cheeks and ears. His eyes flutter at the setting sun's light pouring through the screen door. "It's still a little weird," is his small protest.

The young clan head hums, brushing himself closer. "I'll try better," he breathes against Shuuichi's neck, sending a shiver through his body. "Have you accepted my advances?"

With the body pressing even closer against him, the older exorcist mutters almost breathlessly, "They're still strange." He keeps his hands fisted into his sides and head angled away, becoming increasingly embarrassed over the heat in his face.

"I'm glad you accept them," Seiji coos, pressing his lips to Shuuichi's cheek.

"You're teasing me," Shuuichi breathes out, heart racing, the need to run (or do something absolutely terrifying) increasing.

"Isn't that how it always is?" Seiji slips a hand around Shuuichi's hip, noting the tremble in his frame. "You're a mess," he tsks, feeling the intense heat of his body.

A hand threads through sandy locks. Shuuichi can't suppress the gasp that escapes him. Seiji laughs and the older shuts his eyes.

"You can kiss me."

Shuuichi is surprised how gentle that comes out. There are no other teasing remarks or taunts that follow. Swallowing his pride, his embarrassment, his admittance to this attraction, Shuuichi releases his hands, letting them ghost over Seiji's arms before gripping them and pulling him in. He exhales before pressing his lips against the other's, hot and flushed and already out of breath.


	15. Time Flies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How long has it been?"

 

Shuuichi isn't one to arrive early or on time for exorcist gatherings. There's no need to be eager about redundant news or gossip or catching up.

It's not common that the Matoba clan head would make his way to Shuuichi. The older exorcist ignores the approach (there's no need for them to talk now) to address Hiiragi about their tasks for the day.

"Ah, Shuuichi." He doesn't use given names, or such a playful voice, when normally addressing others nowadays. "How long has it been?"

The sandy-blond man chokes mid-sentence to Hiiragi. The shiki tilts her head slightly, looking past her master to the pompous black-clad exorcist behind him.

Correcting his voice with a few coughs, Shuuichi faces Seiji and somehow struggles out, "What do you mean? I was–"

But he catches that damned smirk and cuts himself off from falling into such an easy trap. Shuuichi presses his lips together and furrows his brows. The flush has already reached his cheeks. How can this man not show humility? (It'd be useless to stop him from bringing up sensitive subjects. The disparity gives him all the more reason to continue.)

"It's been about a month, Master," Hiiragi chimes in, wondering if Shuuichi has really forgotten the time passed.

"It has," Seiji mimics, smile now played a little softer. "You have missed some important discussions. Come by more often."

Shuuichi raises his chin, looking away to scoff, but mostly to hide his embarrassment. "It's all the same drabble to me."

"Oh. All right," Seiji responds lowly, glancing to the bone-masked servant.

"He may consider," the youkai offers as Shuuichi flees the encounter.

"Goodbye, Shuuichi," Seiji sings.

Shuuichi pulls up his collar, hoping it'll hide his red ears and cheeks.

He should know better than to see him the night before a meeting. It only inflates his ego.


	16. What Fear Tastes Like

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I just want this."

They both have been dancing around the subject for too long. What once was playful is now frustrating. Teases come half-hearted or even intended to hurt.

Seiji brings up an unsettling matter at a semi-peaceful meeting with Shuuichi. The older exorcist wouldn't have come if he knew about this beforehand.

There is a new attraction in the area, one with related blood to a legendary woman named Reiko. He is spiritually strong, more so than Shuuichi. There is much untapped potential and power that this person has the capacity to access and use. It's carefully posed as curious interest. The Matoba clan intends to pursue Natsume.

With breath caught and scratching his throat, Shuuichi is unable to respond. Natsume is a friend, but now Seiji is posing him as a threat. Just when he became a part of Seiji's life once more, he was going to be replaced. Alone. If he doesn't move, then Seiji will—and not towards him.

He's giving up. He's not playful anymore. He's tired of playing.

Shuuichi is also.

Gritting his teeth, he levels a glare to Seiji, who expects as much. The clan head doesn't change his expression, meeting him with the same indifference as the delivery of his waning interest. Even Shuuichi rising from his seat, to perhaps leave in a fit of anger and anguish, isn't surprising. Seiji eyes the cups of untouched tea on the table before slowly rising.

Yet there is no slamming of doors. Confused, Seiji looks up and finds Shuuichi standing stiffly with hands fisted. Then the black-haired man offers a change of expression: a sigh and a sympathetic frown. He really doesn't want to fight.

Shuuichi hates that look on him.

Shoving Seiji into a wall, mouth poised over the other's, Shuuichi iterates in a somber breath:

"I just want this."

It's harsh and angry and sad. Shuuichi doesn't know how to control the feeling he is putting into his kisses. This passion can only be stretched so far until the meaning behind it all is lost. There is longing for companionship and intellectual disputes and sense of identity. The original source of that he removed earlier in his years, and then he didn't know where else to search for it. It is back now, and now it is the source that is retreating from him.

Seiji tastes the insecurity and desperateness, trying to coax it with his own kisses. A warm dampness falls onto his cheek. Sighing, and dismissing the pang in his chest, Seiji threads fingers through sandy-blond waves, nails scratching the back of the head.

The gesture inflames Shuuichi all the more. Pressing flush against and lifting Seiji slightly from the floor results in a breathy gasp from him. The fingers dig deeper into his scalp and hips are grounded to the other's, legs trying to secure around Shuuichi.

_He is going to be left alone. He is going to be abandoned._

"No more of this," Seiji sighs, bending his head away. Shuuichi instead moves his mouth to bruise Seiji's now exposed neck. Pulling the panels apart he accesses the collarbone and shoulder. The black-haired exorcist hisses and tightens a hand on Shuuichi's arm, biting out a warning, " _Shuuichi_."

"I'm not fooling around," Shuuichi clarifies with a harsh voice. He pulls away from the bruising shoulder to look at Seiji. His eyebrows are furrowed, pale skin tinted with a suitable red. "I'm not doing that."

"Then what are you doing?"

Shuuichi pauses. 'I don't know' isn't sufficient; Seiji would not accept that. From the tone and way things have progressed, Seiji doesn't want to keep guessing and wondering.

"I want… to be with you."

The spoken words sink heavily in his stomach and ache his heart. Were those the right words? Is this actually what he means to convey? What _is_ he doing?

Seiji sees the struggle continuing to flit across Shuuichi's face. He's confused, but at least they are both one step closer to finding out what this actually is between them.

"Is that right?" The following chuckle is a little hollow, meant to lighten Shuuichi's confession. It's easy to see he doesn't take it well, as if Seiji is doubting him and dismissing the seriousness of his intentions.

Seiji releases a heavy breath, brushing his hand down Shuuichi's arm to hold the hand tangled in his kimono. "All right." It's trembling, unsure. He squeezes it before searching deep red eyes. "Come with me?"

Although apprehensive, Shuuichi lets the younger take his hand, and has it held the entire time until they reach a room.

Both experience a fearful jab in their chest, heart rates peaking. The door slides open for the two to enter, then hastily—and shakingly—shut.

(What is this going to mean? Is this progression? The beginning of a farewell that is long overdue?)

Seiji is unable to release the hold he has on Shuuichi's hand. He is, for once, at a loss for words or thoughts or actions. He stares ahead and contemplates the remaining light of a late autumn afternoon filtering through the windows. It has taken too long, and now it is going incredibly fast. A need both of them have been longing is finally within reach, but the next step is unnerving and unknown.

It is unsettling when Seiji is quiet. Not a comfortable quiet, nor of insightfulness, but of hesitation. They both have been lingering on that position for too many years. So Shuuichi turns around the younger man, carefully composed hands cupping his jaw and back of his head. There's warm kisses placed on lips and cheeks. It's impossible to hide the cascading taste of salt.

Seiji is immediately drawn to the attention garnered on him. His eyes close in this brief calm, listening to the sound of their breathing and the warmth engulfing him. Focusing too much on analyzing Shuuichi, Seiji stumbles, becoming a little overwhelmed.

(Sad. Desperate. Scared.)

The uncertainty doesn't deter either of them. Shuuichi continues with even more passion, heavy and demanding, pulling on Seiji's sleeves to beckon him to the floor. Seiji returns a harsher kiss. No more hesitation. Responding too eagerly, they both stumble down, never losing their intensity.

Shuuichi is quick to slip his hands past the black haori, reaching around the backside to tug loose the obi's knot. Seiji shivers when the fingers dig into his backside. Lifting his hips, the knot is undone and obi slipped off. It sends a shock of excited vulnerability to his groin that almost caused him to whine aloud.

Hands then pass over his clothed waist and hips, pulling open the kimono to touch and memorize the skin beneath. Due to the unfamiliar feeling, Seiji cannot help but fidget. The hands sink lower, fingers assessing hip bones to the dip of his groin. The black-haired man releases a breathy exhale, then realizing how long he was holding his breath. Finally the hands take hold of his growing erection and he chokes, tossing a sleeved arm over his mouth.

Shuuichi rips away the arm, red eyes fiery and determined, and takes Seiji's mouth with his. It becomes stronger with each press, each lick, each bite. Seiji shudders, whines. His arousal is squeezed and rubbed and pulled. He can't get a single breath in.

A little frustrated (but mostly aroused), Seiji thrusts his hands beneath Shuuichi's jacket and rips it off, upsetting the hold on his erection. Digging his nails into his back, grabbing a hold of his black shirt, the younger tugs it off, purchasing the back of Shuuichi's hair and pulling and twisting forward. He smiles, chuckles a little, when Shuuichi gasps with a curse. Seiji marvels at his plump, red lips.

"You're too selfish," Seiji purrs lowly, rubbing the sandy-blond hair between his fingers as the other hand tugs at the belt securing Shuuichi's trousers. Shaky, but successful, the front clip is undone with the trousers' button. He grips the clothing to pull down, insistent that it becomes loose for his hand.

"You're too impatient." Shuuichi has a small chuckle himself. He helps, unzipping the front and is consequently assaulted by Seiji's hand. With a gasp, he arches his back up, but the black-haired man drags him back by his hair.

They settle their bodies on top of each other. Heat and sweat and pulses fueling and prompting. From above, Shuuichi grinds his hips down, pressing his bulge with Seiji's exposed arousal. Trembling fingers rip into the underwear to pull out the straining dick.

Shuuichi opens his eyes in time to watch Seiji. His eye flutters, bringing their dicks together, trying to pump them together. The younger man's upper frame shudders as does his breath. The eye shuts, and Shuuichi regards the dampened red face.

The grip on his head loosens and falls from the head to hold onto a shoulder. Shuuichi leans in, ravaging Seiji with more open-mouthed kisses. Gasping and moaning, the black-haired man presses back into them. Heart skipping and afloat in his ribcage, mind fogged and impulsive and impassioned. The heat on him, with him, around him. Seiji's head falls back, unable to keep up with the velocity, neck now being trailed and nipped. Soft whines are breathed and hips bucking with the other's.

This is it. This is it. He has to do this. Who else would it be?

"Futon… in the right closet…" Seiji puffs out when he gets the chance, heart racing and mind too muddy to bother composing himself or his words. The sandy-blond man removes himself from the neck, carefully watching the younger man refusing to look at him. His chest continues to rise and fall rapidly (not thinking to relax). "Along with… _that_." Seiji licks his lips, eyes darkened, and embarrassed of voicing that aloud.

Shuuichi nearly makes a joke about Seiji's embarrassment, but thinks better of it when noticing his tense body and a harsher flush. He retrieves the implied items from the closet and makes quick work of preparing the futon. Shuuichi catches Seiji glance (nervously) to the lubrication bottle and foil squares.

When their eyes meet, Shuuichi finds himself falling towards Seiji, grappling and bringing him onto the futon. There is no struggle for control, which Shuuichi finds concerning at first. Casting his eyes over the eager body beneath him, that thought is then dismissed. What reason is there to fight? Hot fingers have already pulled down Shuuichi's trousers and underwear before trailing up his waist.

It's quiet from there, besides their heavy breathing and sudden gasps from the preparation. Seiji is noticeably impatient, fingers deep in the forearms above and body curved to Shuuichi. Finally, with a press deep inside of him, Seiji shudders with a noiseless gasp. Shuuichi pauses the movement, briefly catching the surprise on the other's face before kissing the corner of Seiji's eye and pressing again. This elicits a pronounced moan from the younger, pleasure sparking once again in his gut.

Shuuichi pulls his arms away, now preparing his own dick. Blood pumping, he feels impatient himself. He wants to make this quick, but it needs to be careful, gradual. The tip is pressed at the opening, feels the muscle tighten at the heat and thickness. With both the entrance and dick already lubricated, Shuuichi gently sinks in.

As one unknowingly holds his breath, the other minds to carefully breathe.

Sex doesn't always determine compatibility, but it is one way. There is attention and care and questions and listening.

Shuuichi isn't shy of what he wants. Neither is Seiji. He follows whatever he leads him through.

But there is still the evident desperateness, trembling hands, and unsure glances.

 

 

 

"I don't want to stop seeing you," Shuuichi breathes against the futon, eyes dark and hooded. Even when Seiji tilts his head to look at him, he doesn't shy away. "I don't want you to forget me."

Seiji crooks a small grin and allows a small chuckle. "I'm not going to forget you."

"I want to be with you." A little harsher, less breathy.

Seiji pauses and considers Shuuichi. The tone sounds so sure.

Staring too long, Shuuichi blinks away and instead focuses on identifying the threads that complete the futon. Seiji also pulls away his stare, rolling his head back on the pillow.

The taste of each other's fear will no doubt be a constant haunt.


	17. Runaways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you ever think we should just stop this?"

"Do you ever think we should just stop this?"

Seiji pulls up and away from Shuuichi's neck. The older man shifts, moving his shoulder and looking to the side. Seiji tilts his head to follow the movement. As much as he tries to keep guarded, the worry is apparent in his eyes.

"... What are you scared of?" The black-haired man leans down, kimono slipping down to his waist. "Did you think that I forgot you?" he asks softly, silently beckoning the other to look at him.

For a moment, Shuuichi looks to Seiji, pain obvious in his face. But he quickly buries half of it into the pillow and mumbles, "No," like a sad, stubborn child.

Sighing softly, Seiji remains atop of Shuuichi. He blinks over to a dimly lit lantern, waiting for the truth. As much as he wishes the former is true, they both know otherwise.

"There's always a chance," Shuuichi quickly corrects before pausing again. It's too hard to form thoughts and words when his skin feels heavy and hot. But it has to be forced out, "I was going to be replaced," and it's choked on.

Skin shivering, hot, Shuuichi feels sick. He didn't want to admit it, to acknowledge the reality of their relationship, and how it was scarcely changed a few weeks ago.

He doesn't hear the low, shaky groan he releases into the pillow, but he feels it. And he feels the warm hand in his hair, hears the figure above him shift.

A kiss presses to his furrowed brow, and his heart and stomach sink _deep_.


	18. The Rewards of Acknowledging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Come home with me."

They both have their tough days, like anyone else. More than often, it is Shuuichi trying to accept and process the situation. The loneliness (both self-inflicted and unwelcome) has kept him distant on many things, making it harder to understand. It is a painful healing, and he tries to either justify the feelings or run away.

It's an anger of sadness and confusion. If he continues, it will only fall apart again, and affirm that Seiji was right to leave him.

Seiji was first to realize their longing for each other's companionship. With him always teasing, Shuuichi always coming back. Exposing their fears and secret ministrations (singing) in front of each other. Shuuichi entertaining him, giving him attention like no one else (of genuine flattery and interest and fun). He realizes their loneliness will only make their lives and understanding more difficult if they don't start feeding themselves properly with positivity. He wants to hate him, has reason to, but wants to give him time because of the hardships and coming to terms with them. Shuuichi helps him realize that he is the one that is making himself feel lonely. Shuuichi, unknowingly, was there during his process.

He will wait. And did. And now they can proceed with breathing without worrying about the air supply.

Overtime, Shuuichi understands that this is not 'his' but 'theirs'.

"Come home with me."

"Hm?" Seiji turns around and finds that Shuuichi is looking away. Of course he isn't focused on anything; he doesn't like admitting embarrassing things. But this one is too important to shrug off. The black-haired man steps forward, slipping a hand down Shuuichi's forearm to hand. "Please say that again." He is not teasing, they both know that.

"... Come home with me."

Seiji smiles at him, before shutting his eyes and whispering,. "All right." Shuuichi's fingers are hesitant, but Seiji gently presses his into them, linking them together. "I will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and following their journey.


End file.
